


At Constant Speed

by melonbutterfly



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Break Up, Heartbreak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-08
Updated: 2011-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the first time in his life that Rodney truly understands the phrase "one step forwards, two steps back", but he likes to think that most of the time, for every stop forward he takes he's only doing one step back, and sometimes he even takes two steps forwards instead of just one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Constant Speed

**Author's Note:**

> Title and story inspired by the song "At Constant Speed" by Gemma Hayes.

It gets easier, in a way.

Of course, at the same time it doesn't; his is the first time in his life that Rodney truly understands the phrase "one step forwards, two steps back", but he likes to think that most of the time, for every stop forward he takes he's only doing one step back, and sometimes he even takes two steps forwards instead of just one.

It doesn't help that he sees John so often. They don't just work in the same place, live in the same place (on the same fucking floor, even); they have to make a conscious effort not to spend pretty much the whole day together, because right now the command team is pretty busy working out stuff like constitutions and laws and other somesuch stuff that goes with secession. Really, the timing couldn't have been worse.

His paranoia doesn't help either. Hell, Rodney is the first person to admit he's a bitter ex, but he's also a self-conscious one, and that's something he doesn't broadcast so carelessly. Not that he broadcasts the bitterness; in fact, he thinks he's been acting so fucking decent he deserves a medal or something. Sometimes he wonders if he's even real, or if someone replaced him with a pod person without him noticing.

Self-deprecation aside, and the fact that sometimes he hates John so much he wants to strangle him (and not in any way that could ever lead to sex, not that they'll ever have sex again anyway) and at other times just wants to crawl into John's arms and beg for him to take him back, he's doing fairly okay, he thinks. He keeps busy; there's always a lot to do around the city, he'd probably be busy for the rest of his life even if by some miracle he suddenly wouldn't need sleep anymore, or food, or any other kind of interruption. Plus, there is the whole secession business – Rodney has absolutely no complains on that front, not that he ever does. No, he pretty much has to _try_ to be bored – his world is full of puzzles, miracles, impossiblities and his brain is the only tool he needs to dissect them.

But sometimes, he still finds himself staring into the distance (or worse, at _John_ ) and- and doing anything but useful, productive thinking. Pining, perhaps; being pathetic, most certainly. And he knows that other people know – not everyone, perhaps, and the number of people who know _why_ is even smaller, but it's higher than zero, and that is something he finds he has a hard time dealing with as well.

He doesn't want anyone to look at him and think, "he used to be with John" or "John broke his heart" or "there's a John-shaped hole in his life now" or "once upon a time, Rodney actually believed he had something that against all odds would stay with him forever", even if they're all true.

Always trust the math, he thinks now. And John did the math for him, the math of them, and it made sense and it was simple and complicated and beautiful, but now Rodney can see the faults in it, the parables John didn't consider or simply discarded without any reason. Arrogantly, Rodney thinks, arrogantly believing that what he loved now he'd also love in five years, but as time showed, that isn't true. Is probably not true for anyone.

Five years ago, John wanted things he doesn't want anymore, or not in the same form; five years ago, he didn't want things he now wants.

Isn't that how all relationships go wrong?

Rodney has to believe that, because if he starts believing that there was something wrong with them from the start, he doesn't think he can ever love again, ever trust himself again.

The problem is, just because the soil the tree is growing in changed doesn't mean the tree will change too. Rodney is that tree, and either the tree will have to adapt and change as well – perhaps grow weaker, or stronger, or just different, never the same again – or it will wither and die.

Rodney refuses to wither and die, but everytime he thinks that, he starts to throw himself into something (work, tedious law or diplomatic business, even stickfighting with Teyla, of all things) with vigour, and then he will inevitably stumble and fall (not just metaphorically, when Teyla is involved), taking two steps back in the process of his recovery.

After the third time that happens, he finally recognises the pattern and, comparing other, related data (allowing himself to daydream, talking to Teyla about it, pretending everything is okay with John) which follows the same scheme, he develops a formula that pretty much guarantees, if not his recovery, at least his functionality. If he manages to follow it.

He doesn't, of course, because there's things out of his control (John does not like being ignored (self-righteous, ignorant, _smug_ bastard); after a couple of days, his subconsious relocates his daydreams to when he's sleeping; Teyla can make him think about it by just _looking at him_ ), but now he can at least pretend that if he could only follow the solution plan he sketched out, he would be okay again. One day.

But there will always, always be the part of him that thinks he's being pathetic for taking this so hard. John is certainly not the first person to break up with him. He should be able to adapt.

He should be.


End file.
